


Electric

by JueJueBahn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alcoholism, Anal, Chris is losing his shit AND trying to be a good guy, Fingering, M/M, PTSD problems, Piers Lives, Piers is dealing with shit, Post RE6, Scars, Unbeta'd, always use condoms kids, bjs, cry and cox made me do it, electric- electric shock, erm what else, everyone is bad at communicating, explicit applies to ch2, hangover sex can't actually be good right?, how did this sex scene get so long, i think thats it, mentions of Albert Wesker (at least 1 I think), mentions of RE6 events, no conveniently placed condoms, no one knows shit about Piers' condition therefore he's a threat, people be awkward, shameless abuse of italics, shy!piers, so AU-ish I guess, so normal stuffs?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JueJueBahn/pseuds/JueJueBahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piers survived the events of July 1st 2013 in China and is in recovery. Chris feels responsible for everything that happened (of course he does) and needs him to be okay, but Piers puts up a wall when it comes to his captain.<br/>It seems every time their skin touches, Chris gets an electric shock, even though the virus has left Piers' system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned, Cry and Cox made me ship it and now I'm at the stage where I can't think about anything that isn't Nivanfield.  
> Also I should be doing my homework right now but nooooo, I'm writing smut. Alright, it's not smut yet but it will be!  
> sigh  
> Imma do my homework now...

The first time they touch after Piers regains consciousness Chris is the one who initiates it.

Piers looks exhausted and slightly out of it, still hooked to all kinds of machines Chris doesn’t even begin to understand the workings of, but he’s been told one set of tubes is Piers sustenance, the other the vaccine, and as far as he can tell the loudest set of devices in the room is checking up on all kinds of progress- from his heartbeat and brain functions to his infection rate. Chris wonders how Piers can sleep with this much noise. But he has been and he’s just opened his eye and seems confused and lost. His arm is patched up and hidden under layers of gauze that is spread all the way up to cover his shoulder and the right side of his face. He’s almost as white as the bandages.

“Hey, soldier.”

Chris has the instinctual urge to give him something he’s used to, so he smiles and puts his hand on his left shoulder, gentler than he normally would, and two of his fingers brush Piers’ skin over his collarbone with the movement.

It’s instant and something that hasn’t happened to him since he got rid of the first car he ever owned, that ugly old thing that shocked him every time he exited and touched the car door to close it. Piers’ good eye flashes with an emotion Chris can’t place and the machinery in the room goes haywire for that split second the charge runs through Chris’ body. The doctor that seems to always be at Piers’ side looks up at him, her gaze sharp and calculating as she eyes Piers with trepidation.

“Mr Nivans, I’m Doctor Chao. You’re at BSAA headquarters. Can you understand me?”

Piers nods languidly and gives a tired moan at the action.

“Don’t try to move too much, you’re body’s going through a sort of withdrawal. Do you remember what happened in China on July 1st 2013?”

Piers’ eye catches Chris’ gaze and he croaks out a “yes”. Chris has never been more happy to hear his voice, though it doesn’t sound much like him.

“You’ve been infected with the so called C-Virus. We’ve got you on the vaccine right now. It seems you’re on the way to recovery but I’m afraid we can’t tell yet how much function of your arm and your eye you’re going to regain once the virus is completely out of your system.”

At the look that crosses Piers face Chris wants to touch him again, wishes he could be of more comfort, but he’s not sure how the doctor or the two soldiers at the door would react to another power spike. No one said it but they all know Piers caused it somehow and the last thing Chris wants is for anyone to freak out now.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she asks and Piers scoffs. Chris fights a grin.

“Thousands” the younger one mumbles, but doesn’t continue. His eye’s closed now and Chris wonders if he’s fallen asleep again.

“Well, I’m here if you need me” the doctor says and it sounds like a recording, repeated countless times, emotionless like a squad command.

When Piers doesn’t answer she goes to check the machines and scribble frantically on the file she’s holding.

Chris takes a second to glance over the room, noting how the soldiers’ full attention is on Piers, who still doesn’t move. He opens his eye again when Chris pulls a chair over to the bed and sits down. Chris smiles at him again and a look akin to wonder flashes over Piers face before he glances away and clears his throat.

Deflection. Still stubborn then.

Chris is glad, because never even in the direst situations they’ve been in has he seen Piers this vulnerable and it’s making his chest feel tight. _Piers will be alright_ he keeps telling himself, as has become his mantra ever since they found the man on the Chinese shore.

“How long have I been out?” Piers croaks and coughs again. Chris grabs the water glass from his bedside and wonders for a second whether there’s a straw somewhere.

“Almost two weeks” he answers and when he doesn’t find a goddamn straw the annoyance must show on his face, because Piers says “It’s alright” and Chris puts the glass down again with an apologetic sigh.

“We found you three days after you’ve been…” Chris explains and cuts himself short of saying the I-word. He’d seen Piers reaction when the doctor had said it and he doesn’t want to be the cause of that expression on the younger one’s face.

Piers hums and closes his eye again, takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.

“I can’t believe this is real.”

His voice is low and raw and he sounds so tired Chris is almost hoping he’ll go back to sleep.

“I’m really glad you made it” he says, can’t keep it from Piers, not when he’s like this.

Piers scoffs again and a tiny ironic smile pulls his lips into a lopsided curve.

“I don’t know if I am.”

Chris doesn’t know what to answer to that.

“We should let Mr Nivans rest now, this is taking a lot out of his body” the doctor says and directs that stone cold stare at Chris. He wants to slap her.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he says. Piers only reaction is a twitch in his good hand and Chris wonders if it’s an urge to reach out to him. But Piers stays quiet even when he leaves.

And that’s that.

 

 

He visits every day and tells himself it’s natural for Piers to be depressed after everything he’s been through. Hell, he’s been there himself- missions gone wrong and the silent horror of surviving the unsurvivable, seeing the impossible and walking away with a twisted sense of reality and normalcy.

But he’s never been on the outside position and he feels helpless and useless in the face of Piers’ struggle. The idea of touching him again is scaring him because even after another week no one actually knows what happened that first day after Piers woke up, no one actually knows what powers he still harbours or how dangerous he could still be. The aura of that uncertainty is always present in Piers’ room and Chris tries stupidly to brighten the mood in any way possible, but it’s hard when Piers deflects him more than anyone else, puts up a barrier as soon as Chris walks through the door and Chris feels as if it’s his fault. Piers must have noticed how Chris never touches him anymore but he doesn’t know how much Chris wants to, how much he hates himself for not daring to.

He wants their banter back, he wants Piers smug smirk reprimanding his bad quips. He needs him to be okay. Piers is the only one he managed to save in the end.

“I can’t do anything right, can I?” he finally breaks on the day Piers is officially deemed clean and scheduled to start physical therapy for his arm.

Piers looks up at him sharply and wears his patented _don’t be an idiot_ face. It’s clear to read even with half his head still wrapped up in bandages and it makes Chris smile, though he feels himself frowning through it.

“You did everything right, captain” Piers says. His voice is back to normal, but there’s an underlying tension Chris can’t interpret, and these days his eye is always shining with something that’s either embarrassment or shame. Chris thinks it might be both.

“90% of the time at least” Piers adds and looks away again, down at his damaged arm. The statement makes Chris laugh despite himself, short but bright, and he can’t stop the genuine smile that spreads across his features when he sees Piers fight a shy smirk.

“There you are” he mumbles and catches the way Piers eye widens for a second before he turns his head away from Chris. He’s still hiding, the wall’s still up, but Chris thinks there might be a crack in it now and it fills him with giddy relief.

The doctor enters the room to change Piers’ bandages and Chris is shooed out. At the door he turns around for a last glance at the younger one and is met with seeing his arm for the first time. For some reason it feels like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t know what he’s expected it to look like, but the real thing manages to make him shaky somehow. It’s not the claw it was back under the sea- rather it looks like perfectly normal human arm in form, but it’s littered with open wounds and greenish looking scabs, wide scars and dark tissue next to spots of fresh pink skin that must be so new the veins underneath shine through in clear bright blue.

Chris first thought is how painful it must be, even with Piers on all kinds of painkillers and other drugs.

Piers sees him standing there the moment the doctor touches the gauze over his eye, and the hurt look on his face is haunting. He drops his head again and the doctor gazes back at Chris with professional disdain, tells him to get the fuck out with the furrowing of her brows. He does, but Piers expression still fills him with grief. Embarrassment and shame. Chris wonders whether Piers thinks he’s feeling disgust or pity. Piers has never reacted well to either. Chris doesn’t know if he feels anything but shock and anxiety.

 

 

He still checks up on Piers daily but the younger one treats him with more apprehension than ever and after Chris thought they were moving forwards it makes him sick to his stomach to realise it’s a huge step backwards and he’s at fault for making Piers feel bad. At least his condition is improving- he’s not bedridden anymore, although he has to get his legs used to supporting his weight again. Chris is not allowed to be present, but the doctor assures him Piers is making remarkable progress in the use of his right arm; Chris chalks it up to Piers’ determination and is glad to recognise a typical character trait instead of the silent hesitation that is thrown his way. He’s also assured Piers is regaining full eyesight again, although his wounds still have to be cared for and will take a while to heal still.

So Chris doesn’t see his arm again, nor the right half of his face. In fact Piers doesn’t even look at him anymore and if Chris couldn’t identify it as a deep hurt he would think of it as insistent petulance. Instead of blaming himself 24/7 he tries to fight his way back in again and brings Piers books and magazines he knows the younger one likes, that weird brand of bacon flavoured chips he recalls him being so fond of. It all seems to be in vain though, he doesn’t realise how useless his attempts are until Piers gets a visit from another member of their branch.

Piers acts differently around other people now, he’s perfectly normal old Piers when Chris sees him talking to their colleague and it’s the last drop Chris optimism can take. He’s fucked this up beyond repair and Piers is probably blaming him for everything that happened to him. Chris was his captain after all, if anything he should have taken the hit and tried to defeat the BOW by infecting himself. He should have stayed behind and got Piers to safety, like he promised he would.

Backing off is a hard decision, but he can’t fathom in what way forcing himself onto Piers’ recovery time could help him and he figures he’s been selfish this whole while. His need to see Piers’ improvement for himself has brought the sniper nothing but stress and that’s the last thing he needs at the moment.

He doesn’t come to see Piers anymore. The doctor still keeps in contact with him though and after a week he’s made aware that Piers is being released. No once since they’ve touched that first day has there been any indication that the virus has changed Piers system, except for the fact that his right arm has regained function way quicker than humanly possible. His tissue has still not healed completely, but his bones and muscles have and are apparently more resilient and powerful than before. Chris has the uneasy feeling that release from the hospital wing does not mean release from observation for Piers and when he asks the higher ups the next day, he’s assured all of the BSAA are keeping a close eye on the man. It all sounds as if everybody’s waiting on the edge of their seats for the next Albert Wesker size catastrophe and the way he knows Piers, the knowledge of being watched with that expectation must weigh heavily on him.

 

 

It’s a full 4 days- until the weekend- before he can’t take the uncertainty anymore and drives over to Piers’ flat.

He doesn’t have anything to take his mind off everything that’s happened, he’s on ‘holiday’ after the disaster in China and he can’t even drown his mind in alcohol because he promised Piers back in Edonia that he wouldn’t drink again. He’s through breaking promises- at least the ones he can keep, so he busies himself with trying to live a normal life, but he can only clean his apartment so often before he goes insane, and he can’t stop thinking about Piers.

That’s how he finds himself ringing the younger one’s doorbell at 5 PM on Saturday, a bag of Chinese take-out and a six-pack of beer in his hand, trying to fight the irrational anger he feels towards the two BSAA soldiers that greet him from the end of the hallway. His nerves aren’t following his commands either; with the way Piers has treated him he wouldn’t be surprised to find the younger one slam the door in his face.

He hears Piers’ footsteps and when they’re finally face to face time seems to skid to a halt. The relief he feels at simply seeing Piers again- alive and well if still pale- is warming him from the inside out, but he’s also hurt by the surprised look on Piers’ face and the way his eyes drop after a too short moment and time starts up again.

He wonders if Piers is ashamed of Chris seeing his wounds uncovered for the first time, especially because he’s prepared for it this time and frankly doesn’t give two shits about the state of Piers’ skin. There’s an array of deeper and lighter scars from his forehead down to his collarbone, slinking farther down to hide beneath the long-sleeved army green T-shirt he’s wearing- some already silver and tight, some pink and fresh, and his right eye is paler than his usual greenish amber, almost milky in colour and it looks irritated and reddish, maybe still tired from daily use.

But he’s standing on his own, he’s not in bandages, and Chris wants to wrap him in his arms just to feel his living warmth for himself. Instead he holds up the provisions he brought and says as evenly as he can:

“Came bearing gifts.”

Piers eyes flicker to the beer and his brows draw together more than they had been. He seems pained and Chris doesn’t know if he’d prefer the thought of it being physical or mental.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. All for you.”

He almost expects Piers to scoff or smirk or both, instead the younger one seems to consider the statement as quickly as he can, nods after endless seconds and steps aside to let him in. The soldiers in the hallway go completely unacknowledged and Chris feels for Piers again, has the ridiculous thought of taking them out so Piers can get his shit back together in privacy.

When the door closes and they’re left in silence he wonders if he’s made a huge mistake in being so selfish again and breaking Piers’ privacy all on his own. But Piers scratches his head and leads the way to the kitchen and Chris’ mind wanders elsewhere for a while. He’s never been in Piers’ flat before; they’d been close as captain and lieutenant, but it had never reached that far into their private lives, never more than one or two nights out with the team. Piers’ place is nothing special- but then again neither is his own- a kitchenette by a small living room and two doors that have to be bathroom and bedroom; clean and organised with not many personal items at first glance. Chris thinks it obviously a soldier’s place, BSAA work means not spending that much time at ‘home’, especially when you’re still as young as Piers. For a second Chris feels sick with the idea that Piers might not get his job, his old life, back again.

“Not much, huh?”

Chris turns to Piers, who still isn’t looking him in the eyes, and it still feels so unnatural, so un-Piers that that helplessness washes over him once more.

“It’s enough” Chris says and puts down the food and drinks on the counter, snatches the take-out box that’s marked with a D out of the bag and slides it in Piers’ direction, wishing he could just hold it out but actually unsure whether Piers even _wants_ Chris touching him.

“Duck, right?”

Piers nods and rubs his forehead and Chris’ eyes linger on his hand. His palm is freshly bandaged, but his fingers aren’t and they look pretty much like the right half of his face- healed but barely, uneven with countless scabs and scars criss-crossing every inch of skin.

“How do you feel?”

He tries to keep an easy tone to his voice, opens his own box of food and puts a set of chopsticks next to Piers’ before he takes out one for himself. Piers sighs almost inaudibly through his nose and busies himself with the take-out, deflecting how obviously he’d been expecting the question.

“Sore. Exhausted. All the pills they make me take are messing with… everything…”

Chris’ gaze flickers to the coffee table in the living area, and he automatically counts the pill bottles there. 7.

“You seem to be doing well though. Walking around after a little more than three weeks.”

Piers freezes a second before picking up his chopsticks, then again before he turns to Chris. It’s the first time their eyes meet since Chris has caught Piers unguarded at the door, and the guard he’s got up now makes Chris uneasy as Piers scowls at him.

“They making you check up on me?”

It’s Chris’ turn to be surprised and he turns to face Piers as well, noting how the younger one’s chest rises and falls heavily with his anger.

“I’m on suspension, Piers. _I_ wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

Piers drops his gaze and that look of embarrassment/shame crosses his features again. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, breathing out harshly through his nose.

“Sorry, I…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Chris leans against the counter and stabs around in his noodles.

“Thought you’re already covered as far as babysitters go.”

Piers snorts quietly and Chris thinks there might yet be hope for them to get back on the right track.

“I’m here for the party now that we’re both on detention.”

“Stop” Piers mumbles with a smirk and digs into his own food. It really does seem like he has no problems with the use of his right hand, he’s handling his chopsticks like nothing has ever happened at all.

They eat in relative silence, stopping here and there to talk about what they’re doing or rather not doing with their endless free time and Chris feels at ease for the first time in half a year, feels like he can fix this for the first time in a month, feels like coming here was a good idea after all when Piers opens a can of beer and they move to the living room, empty food boxes discarded on the kitchenette counter.

Chris sits on the single chair because he doesn’t want to push Piers into too much closeness, still feeling like actual touch would be unwanted and pressed. Piers sprawls out on the couch and seems mellowed by half a beer, which makes Chris simultaneously smirk and guiltily ask him about his medication and alcohol being a good mix. Piers waves it off and they end up playing that stupid card game Finn had taught them not that long ago. It seems like a lifetime to Chris.

He stows away all the thoughts of people he’s lost and focuses on the person he hasn’t- yet at least. It finally feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, Piers might still be reserved to a certain point, but at least he seems more relaxed in Chris’ company and for once Chris doesn’t think about what he did wrong or could have done different on their last mission, but can focus on simply being there for Piers and enjoying their time together. Piers has always been smarter than him especially concerning little things like such games, and he beats him twice before he starts his second beer and another 3 times before he finishes it.

There’s this irrational urge Chris has to keep doing this all night and longer if necessary to get Piers to break out of his shell completely. But it all goes to hell during their last game.

Piers is comfortably tipsy and already slurring his ‘r’s when it happens. Chris is simply giddy and relaxed and maybe that’s his mistake as he puts his card down at the same time Piers does in a friendly fight for who’s first to get their game points. Their fingers touch an inch over the table and Chris hadn’t even been paying attention, but he’s shocked instantly and drops his card with a hiss.

Piers hand freezes in the air along with his expression and there’s silence for what feels like an eternity before Piers lays his hand on the table and gets up.

“Sorry” he mumbles and his voice breaks a bit. Chris feels like he’s the drunk one, sluggish and incapable of doing anything to turn this disaster around; because Piers is already getting his guard back up and he looks frankly terrified- like he’s done something he knew he shouldn’t, but couldn’t help it- like a kid caught red-handed emptying the cookie jar and knowing it would be spanked for it.

“Wai- it’s fine-“ Chris tries but Piers is already drawing his eyebrows down and walking out on him. He gets up the second Piers says “gotta use the bathroom” and opens the door, but he’s too late to stop the door from closing on him and hearing the lock closing and he’s left standing there in the middle of the room, helpless and lost as he hears Piers slide down against the inside of the bathroom door. It’s the worst feeling ever- he doesn’t even have a clue what’s going on, how Piers can be cured of the infection but still do things like this, if he does it instinctually or intentionally, why it apparently never happens with anyone else but only when Piers touches him. It can only be his fault- like Piers is blaming him, and who could fault him for that?

When nothing happens after a minute Chris knocks twice and puts his palms against the door.

“Hey, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

Piers doesn’t answer or make any noise and Chris just doesn’t know what to _do_. He leaves him there for a while and walks around the apartment to collect himself but it seems neither he nor Piers are able to do so. He tries and knocks again but there’s no answer.

After half an hour he leaves. The soldiers greet him again on his way out. He doesn’t manage to fall asleep all night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re both idiots” she states with a note of surprise in her voice, as if she’s genuinely astounded by her findings of their stupidity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg it's done.  
> finally.  
> yeah I dunno why I suddenly had such a hard time with this.  
> but here u go. have this totally unbeta'd thing that probably has loads of stupid mistakes in it.  
> (but I will go over it again and correct/update it as soon as I find the time)  
> so here, a day late but you get a piers pov epilogue as apology xD

There’s something wrong with Piers Nivans. Everyone at the base knows. Even the people who haven’t heard what happened in China.

Piers is now officially cleared for training again- only prohibited from active duty because it still is not obvious what kind of a threat he could pose. In actuality it means he’s permitted to enter BSAA headquarters as a member again- instead of a risky test subject. He’s still on psych eval and physical checkups but mostly he goes there to get back on his game. The majority of his time is spent at the gym and the shooting range.

Chris knows but hasn’t seen him in weeks. Because Chris is on suspension- not for misbehaviour as he’s assured an annoying amount of times, but to get his personal affairs in order and have a time-out from life threatening missions. As no one dares to mention to him directly ever, he’s also having counselling sessions for his PTSD and it’s connection to alcoholism. It feels a lot like being suspended for misbehaviour, he thinks.

He never meets Piers there- they must have appointments on different days of the week; Chris actually doesn’t want to ask anyone in fear of seeming to overeager. No one needs to start thinking he has an obsession with Piers, even if he sort of does.

 

 

On a Friday, after another endless session of trying to get order into and sense out of all the reports about the events in China (they still need him for all that it seems), he runs into Piers’ doctor at HQ.

“Captain Redfield.”

He turns toward the voice, the recognition of it filling him with slight worry.

“Dr. Chao” he greets her as she walks up to him.

There’s something about her stern professionalism that manages to make him uneasy every time he sees her, and he thinks it might have to do with his mind attributing her existence to Piers, broken and exhausted in a sterile, unfriendly environment. Now she has a different aura though, and Chris doesn’t know what to make of it- the line of her thin lips seems inviting, and her eyes gentle- almost… shy?

It’s the first time he realises how beautiful she is, all perfect female curves and bright eyes that add something exotic to her prominent Asian features. She runs a hand through her long hair and he notices she’s undone the tight bun she usually wears. Not shy- flirty. How long has it been since he’s had an interaction like this, he wonders, if he hasn’t been able to identify it the moment she called his name.

“This might be terribly unprofessional” she starts and Chris is flattered and anxious at the same time. He really has lost it, he thinks.

“But I was wondering if you would like to have a drink with me?”

He really should, would have said yes in an instant just a few weeks ago, a nice simple evening with a stunningly gorgeous, confident woman, a night with skin on skin contact, a warm body in his too cold bed; but he doesn’t. He really doesn’t want to have a drink with her. It hits him like an unexpectedly strong tidal wave _why_ he doesn’t. It’s certainly not her, she’s his type alright, would be anyone’s, and if he would get to know her outside of her work she might even be interesting, funny, tender. But her eyes are too blue, not honey with flecks of green, her hair is too long and too dark, her mouth too wide and her lips too thin and really, how could he have been so stupid as to only have this realisation _now_ , that he doesn’t just want any warm body underneath his, he wants Piers’.

During his slight mental breakdown, she fidgets a little and yes, it’s endearing, it really is, but it doesn’t haunt him the way Piers’ smirks do.

“I’m sorry, obviously you’re not…” she starts and her eyes turn cold again. It makes him feel even more like an asshole.

“No, I… _I_ ’m sorry, it’s just…”

His heartbeat has doubled up and all he can think of is _fuck, I am in love with Piers_ and his brain can’t form any other sentences and wow, she really doesn’t deserve this.

She’s got a slight blush on her cheekbones and holds up her hand, is already turning away when she suddenly stops and faces him again. He still feels like an idiotic stammering teenager, especially when she regards him with that hawkish consideration.

“It’s someone else, isn’t it?”

He’s not sure if he wants to give her a hug or run away with his tail between his legs. In the end he sighs and nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s… well, kinda.”

Her gaze is warm again when he finally looks up. Oh, she knows it’s Piers. He can see it in the furrow of her brows and the calmness in her smile, motherly almost.

“Good. As long as it’s not my fault” she says gently, quietly and it makes a weak smile appear on Chris’ lips.

She sighs and puts her hands on her hips, then breathes out a laugh. Chris thinks she’s even more attractive when she smiles.

“Would anyone believe me I had Chris Redfield stuttering and blushing at me” she smirks at him until they grin at each other and she waves the whole ridiculous situation off and walks away.

She takes his smile along with her and the weight of his admission drops on him again until he has to lean against the wall and run a hand over his too hot face. His chest and throat feel tight and there’s the familiar feeling of guilt curling in his stomach.

He’s in fucking love with Piers.

 

 

If Chris was avoiding Piers, the younger one obviously wasn’t avoiding him, or if he was, he’s made a terrible error coming in on Monday at almost the same time Chris always does for his sessions. Chris is standing in the elevator when he sees him enter the base and he hates himself just a little bit more for the warm feeling that blooms in his stomach at the sight of him. It fades slightly the moment he notices Piers seems fidgety and annoyed, but then the doors close and he’s blocked from view.

Naturally his talk with Dr. Stevens goes horrible because he’s unfocused and can’t relax. He only hopes the man doesn’t think he’s had a fallback and is lying about it. For a second he wonders if he should talk about his improper feelings towards Piers, but even when the doctor asks him what’s eating at him, he can’t bring himself to voice the embarrassment and guilt he feels about his crush. He should be there for Piers, unconditional, as a friend and as his captain- what he should _not_ be doing is turning his relief at Piers’ survival and recovery into some kind of twisted adoration for the younger one. He’s ashamed to even be having those feelings towards him, he should not be allowed to focus this situation on himself and harbour these secretive expectations and cravings at a time where he should be supporting Piers.

The agitation is still there an hour later as he takes the elevator down again and he figures there’s no harm in seeing for himself how Piers is holding up- the least he can do is try to show he still cares. So he ends up at the shooting range and when he doesn’t find Piers there, at the gym.

The first thing he realises when he’s at the doorstep is that there’s no one in there but Piers. The second, he hates to admit, is that the want flares up at a new intensity when his gaze finds the younger one.

Piers is facing away from him just enough for Chris to be out of his peripheral vision and wearing black tracksuit bottoms and a washed out green tank top. His hands are wrapped in the standard grey tape the gym provides for all BSAA members, but his right arm is still bandaged in white all the way up to his shoulder. What gets to Chris first is the way he’s drenched in sweat and panting, hands supporting his weight against his thighs, taking a few breaths before he wipes his face with the back of his left hand and continues beating the punching bag in front of him.

He looks _angry_ , is the third thing Chris notices, obviously working something off his mind, and the way his grunts draw a shiver down Chris’ spine make Chris feel like a creepy stalker just standing there watching. He clears his throat before he loses himself and Piers stops, catches the punching bag easily against his chest as he turns towards the door.

Piers’ expression is pure furious adrenaline and Chris feels dizzy for a second from the desire rushing through him but it fades off quickly into memories of them together during missions and how he longs to just spend time with Piers, in any way really. He simply misses the closeness they shared once.

Piers steals their eye contact too soon again and wipes his hairline with his forearm.

“I’m busy” he says and Chris really loves his stubbornness- except for when it’s turned at him.

“I just wanna know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine” Piers answers with an air of forceful persuasion accentuated by a harsh set of punches he throws at the bag.

Chris hums and walks closer, against his better judgment and the guilt coiling his insides. He’s always been an _act rather than think_ person and he can’t wait an eternity for Piers to come to him. Piers is troubled and he needs to know that at least he _tried_ to help and ease some of all the shit bothering the younger one. To some extent he even understands the urge to prove to yourself you can go through tough phases on your own, but he also knows how much sorrow forcing everyone out can bring, and he doesn’t want that for Piers. And if he’s the only person Piers is keeping at bay then that’s even more of a reason for him to try harder to regain the trust they had once.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Piers gives an extremely harsh looking punch and his features twist with rage.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Chris sighs. He feels so defeated and old. He’s not good at these kinds of things- Piers is the one who can convey so much with a simple statement, not him.

“There’s _a lot_ to talk about and you know it, Piers.”

Piers growls angrily and stops the swing of the bag with his right palm placed against it, turns to Chris and fixates him with a stare that could burn holes into a less experienced man’s self-confidence.

“I _have_ people to talk to about all of that, Chris. That’s all I _do_ these days, talk about what happened and how I _feel_ about it and where I’m going to _go_ from here- I don’t need _you_ to ask me all the same questions they do! I thought I was _done_ for back there! I never asked for all this shit where everyone’s _cautious_ of me and no one _trusts_ me anymore! I never wanted to be a hero or a threat! And _stop looking at me like that_!!!”

Piers is trembling and panting and his eyes shine with his emotional outburst. Well, a spat tirade is communication at least, Chris thinks.

“Piers…” he starts and reaches out a hand automatically, not even thinking about the consequences of touch between them lately.

“Don’t touch me!” Piers shouts and twitches away, but it’s too late and Chris’ fingertips brush over the moist skin on Piers’ left upper arm. The shock he gets is more intense than the previous ones and he flinches from the warm pain radiating through his hand and upwards towards his shoulder, but he’s more concerned about Piers’ reaction and with good reason.

“Do you _want_ to get hurt??”

The younger one looks as if the electricity had damaged him more than Chris and he emits something akin to panic when he places his palm against his forehead and grabs his bag with the other in a haste that seems desperate and hopeless.

“Piers, I’m fucking fine!” Chris rumbles helplessly but the other doesn’t even seem to be hearing him at all in his urge to get away.

“I _do_ trust you, Piers!” he tries again when Piers dashes for the door. Chris follows him automatically, but he’s too shook up about everything that’s going on and too invested to match Piers’ frantic escape.

Of course the person strolling down the hallway when he exits the gym is Dr. Chao. She takes a look at Piers’ retreating back at the end of the hall and then at Chris’ pained expression, then shakes her head, her eyes big with wonder.

“You’re both idiots” she states with a note of surprise in her voice, as if she’s genuinely astounded by her findings of their stupidity.

She’s still shaking her head when she leaves Chris standing there. He can’t remember a single moment in his life when he’s been more confused and he’s stunned to find that finally, instead of just feeling embarrassingly down about his confusion, he’s angry.

 

 

Anger is the emotion he cannot deal with the right way. He’s got used to sadness a long time ago, self-pity and despair and silence- he’s found ways to distract him from all those feelings, found ways to cope. But anger makes him afraid of what he might do, afraid of how and what he might lash out against. Anger he doesn’t know how to mellow without alcohol.

He’s been edgy and irritated all day now and he tried the basic stereotype of getting rid of his excess energy and testosterone- been to the gym and worked out until his muscles shook, but it only made him focus more on his rage, especially because the place reminded him of the day before. So he tried the meditational way, sat in his bathtub and listened to calming music, tried to focus on his breathing, but nothing helped. He’s still in a foul mood when it gets dark outside his flat and he’s exhausted from his own rage and he really really just wants a drink. At least when he’s gone and drunk himself into a stupor he can fall back into the easy familiar self-loathing because he broke another promise he made.

It’s about 9 when he gets back from the convenience store and about half past when he feels the numbing buzz rumbling through his blood and the anger subside.

It’s 15 minutes after 11 when he arrives at Piers’ flat piss-drunk and miserable and stumbles into the door twice before he manages to hit the bell.

He’s glad Piers isn’t under supervision anymore. Piers looks _pissed off_ and sleepy when he opens the door but it turns into a hurt look of betrayal in a second during which Chris holds onto the doorframe and drawls “Hey”.

They stare at each other for endless seconds, or rather Piers stares at Chris with a frown and Chris tries to hold his gaze while swaying from side to side.

Even though Piers bares his teeth and his eyes flash dangerously Chris doesn’t even see the punch coming, but it knocks the wind out of him completely- closed fist to his jaw, and from Piers’ right arm, the stronger one. He hits the floor and cups his cheek, huffs out a pathetic sounding “Ow” even as he thinks he had that coming and his drunk mind giddily supplies him with the fact that Piers touched him.

“You fuckin-… get in here” Piers hisses and grabs his arm, practically drags him into the apartment, which must look funny, he thinks, what with him being almost twice Piers’ size.

After an uncomfortable stumble through the hall Piers drops him onto the couch and Chris really can’t help slouching into the cushions and closing his eyes with a groan. The left side of his face is radiating heat but he’s too out of it to actually feel the pain yet, only a dull ache. Piers is still standing in front of him as if deciding what to say, but when Chris forces his eyes open again, the younger one looks away and walks off to his bedroom with his hands balled to fists.

That’s the end of it for now then, Chris thinks as he drops sideways into a lying position.

It feels like an eternity but is most likely about half an hour until Chris realises the world is spinning too much when his eyes are closed, and turns onto his back, tries to focus on the ceiling while he twists his fingers in his hair. Fuck, Piers looked angry. Well, he brought this on himself again.

The bedroom door opens but Chris doesn’t dare to move, scared of Piers’ expression and scared he might lose his dinner if he does. He jumps a bit when a blanket lands on his stomach and nudges at it miserably.

“I think I’m gonna throw up…” he mumbles and Piers scoffs angrily. Chris looks up carefully and thinks Piers’ eyes look red, but he might be wrong in his dizziness. It makes his insides ache anyway.

Piers disappears again and comes back with a bucket, drops it next to the couch with a loud bang.

“Just don’t do it on my floor.”

Piers doesn’t come out of his bedroom again all night, not even when Chris spends an eternity vomiting all the contents of his stomach and then some into the bucket.

 

 

He wakes up from the cruel sunlight lighting up every corner of Piers’ living room and turning it into an unforgiving sight, even with his eyes still closed. Something in the room shifts when he groans and he blinks until he can make out Piers’ shape on the seat, watching him intently.

“I hope you feel like shit” he spits, but at least has the decency to do so quietly, even if it makes the statement sound even more venomous.

Chris finds himself checking him out despite aching _everywhere_ , and thinks if he hadn’t been that pissed off his ass the day before he might have been able to appreciate Piers in a thinned from use plain white T-shirt and plaid boxers. Piers looks almost as exhausted as he feels though, eyes sunken and dark, the line of his mouth harsh and annoyed.

“I do…” Chris mumbles and fights to slowly get into an upright position.

Piers leans forward and runs his hands through his hair and across his face, stays in that position- hunched over and tired, head resting in his palms. It’s the first time Chris notices that Piers’ arm is uncovered- the skin looks pink and raw still, but all the wounds have closed neatly now.

Even through the soreness of his muscles, the queasy feeling still in his stomach and the headache in his temples Chris still manages to feel more than bad for always ending up as the reason for Piers’ discomfort and pain.

“I…” he starts and then sighs, holds on to the couch to stay sitting straight, “I gotta go take a shower…”

Piers doesn’t move an inch and Chris eventually leaves him there to stumble into the bathroom. He can’t even focus on the logistics of anything- mind numb until the first spray of warm water hits him and he mechanically scrubs himself down. All he wants is to be out of Piers’ hair as soon as he can. He’s embarrassed about bothering the younger one once again and he’s disgusted with himself for being this useless especially concerning a person he respects and loves so much. He’s aware he’s doing more harm than anything at this point. They’ve long since crossed the line of captain and his lieutenant, alright. If not, this night only cements their twisted relationship and Chris almost feels obligated as the older one, as the superior, to stop here. It’s already gone too far.

Somehow he manages to find a fresh towel and get dressed again as soon as he can, even if his clothes stink of alcohol and old sweat and feel wrong on his skin. He steals some of Piers’ mouthwash to get rid of the taste of bile still on his tongue and groans at the burn it causes on the abused tissue of his gums.

When he gets back into the living room, Piers is sitting on the sofa, blanket neatly folded up by his side and a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. He pushes it towards Chris in a very implicating gesture and yeah, Chris knows what this is. He’s been at interventions before.

He takes a step closer but remains standing in the living room, water from his hair dripping onto his forehead and neck. He wonders which of them looks more miserable right now.

“You can’t keep doing this” Piers says quietly and rubs his palms together, serious frown edged deeply into his features. He looks older like this somehow, wiser than when he’s pouting with frustration.

Chris closes his eyes and tries to breathe evenly. This is _already_ making him tired.

“I know” he says and Piers drops his head onto his palm again, defeated as well.

“ _I_ can’t keep doing this.”

“I understa-…”

“No, you _don’t_ understand, just shut up for a second” Piers says, determined even though his voice breaks a bit as he talks.

“You wanted a talk, well now you get your _fucking_ talk. I hope at least afterwards you hate me enough not to feel obligated to check up on me anymore.”

Chris only just manages to keep down a hurt whine, wishes now he could be angry again, could call Piers out on everything he’s misinterpreted instead of them both being these broken shells of what they used to represent to each other. When Piers sighs, obviously trying to keep himself in check, Chris sits down and stares into the coffee cup. Piers still knows he likes it black, somehow that detail makes his chest even tighter.

“You’re a piece of work alright, and I know you know that” is the eloquent statement with which Piers starts his argument. It only hits Chris now that Piers is _nervous_ about this. He’s almost never seen Piers like this, biting his bottom lip and gazing around the room frantically as though physically searching for words to appear to him.

“But I also know how you feel about last night, and I’m not even gonna start with _that_ again. This is not what this is about.”

Now Chris is actually surprised. Of course he’s realised there’s something else entirely at the root of this- has figured it was all the problems Piers has had to deal with in and after recovery; but right now, he thought, this was about his pathetic bender.

“I _know_ you, Chris, which is exactly why I have no idea if you actually care that much or if you think you _have to_ after I… after what happened… between us.”

Piers scoffs at himself and Chris wants to interject that _fuck yes he actually cares_ , this is what all this is about, him caring too much, but Piers holds up his hand when Chris opens his mouth and stops him. For a moment there’s silence until Piers curses and runs his fingers through his hair, making it stick up more chaotically than it already has been.

“The thing is- God, I’m pathetic…” Piers tries and Chris almost wants to laugh, hysteria creeping up his spine, because _what_ \- _he’s_ the pathetic one here.

“I might have acted the way I did back then because I _believe_ in you, because I think the world _needs_ you, yeah, but…”

Piers sighs again and it sounds as if he’s giving up.

“I also… I… I’m also the typical cliché of misinterpreted idolisation and I… fuck, I just… I like you too much…”

Chris doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t.

He feels like he’s walked in on the wrong movie, because Piers is stammering and blushing and rubbing his neck and Chris seriously has no clue what he’s even talking about and it’s just making his head hurt more. He might have drunk himself into a stupor that left him hallucinating or dreaming about a ridiculously cute but equally nonsensical Piers.

“What?” he says smartly and Piers winces.

“You really haven’t realised it yet?” Piers mumbles and rubs the skin around his right eye.

“Everything- tracking you down when you went AWOL, getting you back together, trying to save your life in China- I wish I could say I did all that with the purest intentions but I’m actually just an idiot who’s in love with you…”

Piers’ voice has gone down to a murmur while he’s talked and he seems so small, looking at the floor between his bare feet, fidgeting on the couch, picking at some scabs on his hurt shoulder absently. There’s a deep red hint on his cheekbones now and his eyes are shiny and there it is again- that embarrassment Chris has never been able to place properly and it’s all falling into place so quickly Chris gets headrush along with the ache between his temples. The next feeling is infinite relief, while Piers sinks into himself and wraps his arms around his own waist.

Chris can’t help the smile that blooms on his face and if this is a dream he might as well just kill himself after waking up, because he can’t remember ever feeling this light in his whole life and suddenly he just _wants_ again and doesn’t even think to feel bad about it.

“You…”

Piers flinches again at the sound of his voice and as endearing as it is, Chris thinks they’ve both been through enough and it would be ridiculous to leave the younger one hanging when finally things are clearing up.

“You thought I’d mind?”

Piers heaves a sigh that seems forced out of him and Chris smiles wider seeing the younger one’s lips draw into a slight pout.

“I think it’s laughable how I can’t get over crushing on my famous superior… but yeah, I also thought you wouldn’t…”

Piers sneaks a glance at him and his surprised expression at Chris’ smile is almost comical before he looks hurt again.

“Oh God, you’re gonna be condescending about this…”

Chris starts both of them by laughing loudly and sinks back into the chair.

"No. No, I’m just… relieved.”

He closes his eyes and allows himself to bask in the fact that Piers likes him back. After what he’s seen the world to be this really must be either a dream or cosmical irony. Maybe he’s finally cashing in on his good luck for once. He doesn’t even feel any of his hangover aches anymore.

“I’m just so glad it’s this. I thought… God, I thought you hated me because all that’s happened to you is my fault and… yeah.”

He allows himself to do nothing but stare at Piers longingly for a while after he’s opened his eyes and it’s a shock of adrenaline to see the exact moment Piers realises Chris is checking him out. There’s still so much distress and unexplained anxiousness in all of Piers’ movements as he looks away again and Chris gets it now, finally- how overprotective they both are and how they’ve been torturing themselves in a painfully overeager attempt to spare the other.

He’s really had enough of it.

“I’ve never thought it was your fault” Piers says quietly and maybe something in the absolute surrender in his eyes speaks to Chris’ carnal male urges but for the first time concerning Piers he feels it’s alright for him to let go of his guilt about those emotions and just go with it.

“I like you too, Piers” he says and sits up straight again, eyes the younger one intently as he flinches and pulls the corners of his mouth down.

“Don’t.”

Chris runs a hand over his face and notices how tender the bruise on his face is. He doesn’t really know too well how to play the cat and mouse game when it comes to love, but he does know he’s got Piers pinned for now and he can’t leave until he’s tried everything in his power to clear this up between them.

“I’m not messing with you” he says and gets up, walks around the table slowly- not only because he doesn’t want to upset and scare Piers away, but also because the room is still spinning slightly when he gets on his feet.

“And I don’t think it’s a stupid crush. You gave your life for mine.”

Piers looks pained when he lowers himself down on the couch next to him, but he doesn’t shy away, fixes him with an anxious sideway glance.

“That’s gotta count for something more, right?”

He reaches out his hand but stops when Piers flinches away from it.

“You’re gonna get hurt…” he mumbles and his voice breaks again, his eyes big and shining and helpless, “I can’t help it…”

“I don’t care.”

The pads of his fingers run over Piers’ left cheekbone and the electric shock he receives might be the biggest yet, burning all the way up to his biceps and making his arm twitch involuntarily, but when it fades he’s left with Piers soft skin under his fingers and he doesn’t plan to let go again. Piers whimpers as if he’s been the one getting hurt and looks at him with an aching longing that tugs at Chris’ heart strings and his arousal at the same time.

He smiles and Piers sighs out a tiny laugh and closes his eyes. When Chris makes their foreheads touch he can feel Piers start trembling and his breathing speed up, and this- _this_ is exactly what he wanted, this intimacy, a moment for just the two of them. Up this close he can smell Piers’ scent, heavy from an uneasy night, can still see crusts of sleep on his eyelashes and feel the tips of his ridiculous bed-hair against his face. He studies the edges of Piers scars, where they begin to run across his pretty features, follows one’s trail down to the very edge of his upper lip and then suddenly he can’t look anywhere else.

“I’m gonna kiss you” he announces and Piers chuckles weakly, opens those pretty mismatched eyes again and stares back at him with want clouded in hesitation.

“You shouldn’t…” he whispers and Chris pushes him down onto his back slowly, careful not to break skin contact until he’s looming over Piers.

“Mhm” is more of an acknowledgment of Piers talking rather than affirmation, Chris’ heartbeat doubling over with how debauched Piers already looks under him, vibrating with need and nerves.

Piers moans quietly the second their lips touch and Chris guides him through it, runs his fingers along Piers hairline and strokes the side of his head until the younger one stops shaking and responds to the kiss. Chris keeps it gentle and slow, even though he’s hard so quickly he gets dizzy from it, can’t help the pleased groan he loses when Piers clings onto his shirt. His free hand travels down to map Piers’ chest and stomach through his warm T-shirt and Piers’ lips part around a gasp as Chris’ thumb traces the ridges of his abs to a prominent scar on his right side. From there it gets heady quickly, Chris losing his control a bit when their tongues meet and pulling Piers up onto the couch all the way so he cant align their crotches and rub up against the younger one shamelessly. His vision starts swimming when he feels Piers is as hard as him. The younger one is panting like he’s running a marathon and meeting all of his moves halfway, eventually breaking their kiss to let his head roll back and bite his lip in an attempt to keep quiet. He might be the most perfect thing Chris has ever seen.

Chris bows down to nuzzle against Piers bared neck and notices how Piers’ breath catches when he comes close to the right side, runs his tongue across the first little scar above his collarbone.

“Sensitive?”

Piers whimpers and scrunches up his face, eyes blown and focused on the ceiling. Chris fits his hand into the groove of his neck and feels his pulse racing, also feels more than sees Piers’ small nod and the urge to make him lose his mind is suddenly almost stronger than Chris own arousal. He attacks Piers’ neck with wet kisses and careful nips along his scarred flesh and Piers starts thrashing under him when his free hand finds his right nipple under his T-shirt and plays with it.

As simple as it would be to rut against each other until they come in their pants, Chris wants this first time to be done properly, especially since he feels he owns it to this stubborn idiot who’s always putting up with his shit.

So he slows them down and tilts Piers’ head up for a last peck before he pulls him into a sitting position. Piers is bright red and dazed and Chris runs his fingers through his disheveled hair lovingly, smiles at him until Piers manages to pull himself together.

“Wanna move this to the bedroom?”

Piers nods but then seems to make up his mind and swallows harshly as he averts his gaze.

“I don’t… Chris, I don’t know how to stop it, I might be dangerous…”

“Bullshit” Chris smirks and strokes his fingertips along the nape of Piers’ neck.

“What if it gets stronger? What if the vaccine didn’t work properly and I’ll change into _that_ again and I’ll…”

“Hey, hey. Stay with me, okay?”

Chris makes him look up again, runs his nose along Piers’ until the younger one sighs shakily.

“Don’t worry right now.”

He drops teasing pecks on Piers’ right cheek and jawline and waits for Piers to calm down.

When they move off the couch Piers tugs the hem of his T-shirt down over his erection and it makes him seem so young, so inexperienced, even though Chris knows he isn’t, Chris knows about a few of Piers’ romances over the last years, has seen how women and some men look at him and he would be jealous just thinking about it, if he weren’t busy sporting that same look on his face when he follows Piers to his bedroom- runs his gaze over the width of Piers’ shoulders, down the elegant lines of his back to that perfect ass and his bare thighs, trained and dusted with dark blonde hair. He’s light-headed for a moment again, imagining and anticipating stripping Piers down and finding out exactly where his happy trail stars, if he shaves his groin, how those thighs feel under his palms.

As soon as they’re in the bedroom he pulls Piers to him again, chest to chest and smiles at him.

“See? No shock.”

“I might be charging for a big one…” Piers mumbles, plump lips pulled into a pout.

“Mhm, I bet” Chris smirks and Piers groans, punches his shoulder lightly.

“Really, Chris? Really?”

But he’s smiling as well when Chris grabs his chin, fits their mouths together and loops his arms around Piers’ waist. Chris runs his palms down to finally cop a feel of Piers’ ass, tight muscles under warmed worn cotton, and they both moan against each other’s lips when he squeezes and presses their bodies closer together with the action.

They tumble onto bed together and Chris wants everything all at once. He feels high from Piers’ scent and the sounds he makes, the way he scratches lightly at Chris’ shoulders when Chris focuses his attention to the scarred side of his neck again. Needing more skin contact, Chris strips them of their shirts quickly and goes right back to spoiling Piers, lapping at his nipple, getting used to the bumpy scar tissue against his lips and tongue, and it shouldn’t be such a turn-on but Piers’ reactions are ridiculously delicious and make his head swim with desire.

He runs his hand down Piers’ side and strokes his thumb along the waistband of his boxers, dipping in just the slightest bit and fits his teeth gently around Piers’ nipple and Piers _mewls_ , toes curling, fingers gripping the bedsheets tight and hips coming off the bed in a silent plea for more.

Chris gives in easily enough, cupping Piers’ dick through his underwear and feeling a shudder go through him when he notices there’s a wet spot on Piers’ boxers. Piers holds his breath when Chris starts kissing down his stomach and lets it out with a big helpless sounding sigh as Chris pulls off his boxers and nips at his hipbone. It’s unreal how much the sight of Piers naked and aroused destroys him and leaves him breathless and it drowns out all the worries he has because he’s never done this with a man before- it’s not as if the mechanics were complicated, right?

He tries to emulate what feels good from the receiving end of oral and holds Piers’ dick upright, runs his tongue from root to head and sucks a kiss there, looks up at an unusually quiet Piers, who’s biting his lip and has his eyes squeezed shut, whole body trembling. Chris wants to take him apart until he’s loose and sloppy. He takes the head into his mouth and suckles and Piers moans, thighs flexing with strain. Chris runs his palms up and down them soothingly and bobs his head. Piers’ control breaks after three strokes, hips bucking up sharply and making Chris gag a bit when Piers’ dick slides in too deep so suddenly. He pins Piers’ hips and takes a deep breath, then goes back down, testing out how far in he can take it without chocking again, and trying to find a rhythm. One of his hands runs up to Piers’ stomach and feels his abs contract every time Chris head goes down.

Tentatively Piers gets a hand into Chris’ hair and Chris moans around his cock in assent, making the younger one hiss and grab onto the short streaks. Chris lets his hand run back down Piers’ middle and palms at his balls, squeezes gently, then rubs his thumb along Piers’ taint, puts enough pressure there to make Piers’ hips twitch.

“Fuck, Chris…” he moans breathily and tugs at Chris’ head, “I’m gonna…”

Chris backs off then, because he doesn’t want this to be over yet, but he’s strangely proud anyway that he managed to get Piers this close already. It’s only now that he realises how his cock and balls ache to join in on the action. Piers’ eyes are hooded and shiny as he looks up at him and sighs when Chris resumes petting his thighs.

“I wanna fuck you” he tells him and Piers’ gaze gets even darker with lust. The intensity in his stare draws a groan from Chris and Piers wets his lips, whispers “Yeah. Yes…” and finally reaches out for him, draws Chris down and holds him there with his arms around his neck, kisses him with a hunger that is contagious.

When they break apart again Piers is panting and confuses Chris by pushing him away with his palms on Chris’ pecs.

“Wait…” he mumbles and Chris thinks the younger one’s blush is intensifying.

“Condoms in the bathroom” he continues, eyes averted and embarrassed and Chris raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Piers pouts as he squirms out of Chris’ hold, “I don’t do this a lot…”

Chris has to smile at him as he gets out of the bed and then leers after him, studying Piers’ backside as he leaves through the door that adjoins bathroom and bedroom.

“Make it quick” he only half-jokes, voice already surprisingly raw.

“Aye aye, captain” comes Piers annoyed reply from the bathroom and oh, he’s never again not gonna have dirty thoughts when Piers addresses him with his title.

He’s shimmying out of his jeans when Piers gets back and something about the way Piers looks at him, naked and unreserved and so turned-on makes him reach out aggressively and pull the younger one back in, pin him to the mattress again while another electric charge leaves his skin tingling. Somehow he expected a smirk and a quip about it, but Piers just stares up at him so open and pliant it makes his heart burn.

He grabs Piers by the hair, keeps him in place for another assault of wet kisses that leave them both moaning and rutting against each other until the first urgent hunger is sated. His lips trail along that one scar right next to Piers’ mouth to his cheek and then right down to his pulse, sucking the damaged tissue there while he takes off his boxers and throws them off the bed. Piers moves to lean on his elbows and Chris forces his mind to work, reaches out to pull a pillow towards them and place it under Piers’ hips. There’s a forced deep breath from the younger one and Chris smiles up at him reassuringly, kisses him sweetly and long until he feels the tension slowly drain from Piers’ body.

When he leans back and searches for the condom that got lost on the bed during their tangle, Piers twists around to open the drawer on the nightstand and pull out a bottle of lube and suddenly he seems just as eager as Chris, grabbing at him wildly and nipping at Chris’ jawline as he hands him the bottle.

He quickly coats his fingers and then pushes Piers onto his back again, hand placed right over his rocking heartbeat, the other cupping his balls before stroking down to massage around his hole. Piers grabs the sheets again and starts gasping, hips rocking back against Chris’ movements, eyes rolling back when the first finger breaches him. Piers is so tight and warm inside and Chris dick throbs in sympathy. It’s impossible to drag this out too long.

Chris doesn’t give him much time to adjust, but Piers doesn’t seem to mind- by the time he’s up to the fourth finger there’s a constant stream of quiet moans coming from him and he’s dripping precome onto his hip.

“Come on, come on…” he whispers, desperate and pleading, and a shiver runs down Chris’ spine.

He pulls out and lines up his cock, pushes in carefully and Piers groans when the head slips in. Stopping, he locks eyes with Piers and another wave of dizziness washes over him. The good side of Piers face is covered in a deep blush that doesn’t manage to shine through all the scars on his right cheek and forehead, his pale brown streaks are sticking to his face with sweat and his eyes are shiny and bright, staring at Chris with something akin to wonder.

Chris has to lean down and kiss him, brushes his hair from his temple and then lets his fingers linger there to stroke along his right cheek and ear. Piers hums against his mouth and then gasps when Chris rocks all the way in slowly. It doesn’t take much from there on, by the time Chris hauls one of Piers’ legs over his shoulder and sets up a good steady rhythm he can already feel how eager his body is to finish and Piers is pretty debauched from the foreplay, meeting his every thrust and whimpering when Chris finds the right angle.

“Chris…” he mumbles urgently, digs his fingers into Chris’ thighs and Chris gets a hand around his cock, jacks him off in time with the roll of his hips.

They come almost at the same time, Piers first, silently, body arching and nails scratching painful lines down Chris’ legs, body spasming around Chris’ dick and dragging him off the edge as well. He only manages to slide Piers’ leg off his shoulder, then he falls into him and just pants into the younger one’s neck.

Piers seems so small under him like this, enveloped by Chris’ sheer size, but he’s the one who gets himself together first and runs his palms along Chris’ sides; Chris is still twitching from the intensity of his orgasm and just wants to stay like this, softening dick still inside Piers, smelling Piers’ moist skin, concentrating on the patterns Piers’ hands draw on his back. Eventually he pulls out and off him and when he sits up to throw away the condom his hangover comes back to say hello.

He settles back against Piers and smiles when the younger one doesn’t seem to be that into the idea of spooning. Thoroughly-fucked Piers seems to be indulging Piers though and doesn’t even comment on the fact that they’re facing the window- that way his scarred side is up. Chris nuzzles behind his ear and down his neck until Piers sighs again and his muscles relax into Chris’ embrace.

Chris has a light headache and their position means _he’s_ definitely lying so the side of his face that hurts from Piers’ punch is pressed against the mattress, but he doesn’t care that much as long as he’s able to run his nose against Piers nape like this.

“Sooo…” he starts before they both fall into a post-coital nap, “The shocking thing only happens when you touch _me_ , right?”

Piers remains quiet but when Chris raises his head to look at him his eyes are still open and he has that look on his face that means he knows he’s going to be annoyed.

“Is it that when your heart skips a beat you prod-…”

“Please stop talking” Piers says sharply and Chris smirks, kisses his neck.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

Chris trails his lips up to his ear and Piers twitches lightly when he nips at the shell.

“Well if it is, I really like it.”

He leaves another kiss on Piers’ earlobe before he goes on.

“Knowing how I rile you up, it’s actually kinda hot.”

He sees the edges of a smile spread on Piers’ face before the younger one hides it in the pillow.

“Please go away, I don’t like you anymore” he mumbles, but when Chris pulls him even closer and locks his arms around him tight he actually chuckles.

Yeah, Chris thinks, they’re going to be alright again. Better than alright.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers hates storms and fuzzy feelings. Maybe.

When Piers wakes up there’s a late summer storm howling and heavy rain tapping against the windows. Piers doesn’t like rain, responds even less favourably to it as of lately. But the bed is dry and warm and smells of familiar detergent and him and Chris. It takes a few seconds for his sleepy brain to remember what happened and connect the weight of the arm draped over his hip and the chest pressed to his shoulder with Chris. He’s fully awake in a heartbeat then and rolls onto his back, turn his head to study the other man.

Chris is still sound asleep, face almost completely smothered into the pillow, huge chest rising and falling with his even breaths.

He looks so peaceful that suddenly Piers fears his heart might swell so much he’ll accidentally shock Chris awake. So he tries to match Chris’ breathing pattern, looks away and slowly lifts Chris’ arm off him, sits up and rubs his face.

He’s getting nervous about this already. All he wants to do is slide back under the covers and enjoy Chris’ warmth against him, but he’s so scared he might fuck this up, because this is too perfect, this feels too easy.

He gets up and fishes a pair of pyjama pants out of his closet, puts them on as quietly as he can. The rain gets louder when he skulks to the bathroom awkwardly. His ass feels strange, he’s sore in weird places and his scars ache, all over. He’s also curiously exhausted, the bad night still weighing on him and the nap they just had has only messed up his sleep routine more. He looks at the clock in the bathroom. 2 hours. They’ve slept for 2 hours. He watches himself in the mirror and thinks he doesn’t look as tired as he feels. In fact he looks kind of at ease.

He washes up quickly, always does now. Since he almost drowned back in China he can’t stand the feeling of water on his face for too long. Then he cleans the traces of spunk from his stomach and it hits him again- he’s had sex with Chris. There’s the familiar tingling sensation right under his skin and he holds onto the sink, breathes slowly and deeply for a minute until it fades away.

He fixes his stare on his right eye in the reflection. It’s an ugly reminder of how he almost became a monster- maybe has, who knows at this point. Chris didn’t seem to mind.

“Stop it” he hisses as his traitorous heart speeds up again.

He remembers something he’s read somewhere a long time ago: _No one else can save you from yourself._ Surely doesn’t keep everyone from trying, he thinks. It’s a highly hypocritical thought too- he’s just like that as well. He’s still trying to save Chris from his wrong choices, isn’t he? But, he wonders, just maybe trying hard enough might help someone find a way to save themselves.

_Chris doesn’t mind this._

He stops examining his eye and gets out the creme Dr. Chao prescribed him, starts his daily rub down. It’s tedious, but it does help, and he actually likes the routine of it. Anything that gives him a task to do keeps him from brooding and focusing on negative thoughts. When he’s done he looks towards the door to the bedroom and hesitates a bit.

What if Chris is awake? What if he’s changed his mind, what if he feels too guilty about this, what if Piers was just a drunk mistake? What if he’s realised Piers is too much of an unknown threat?

No _what if_ s, he reprimands himself, _don’t assume, find out what’s what_.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Chris is sitting upright and rubbing his temples, blanket pooling on his lap, ridiculously trained upper body bare and making Piers’ mouth water. When he looks up at Piers there’s a heartfelt expression of relief blooming on his face and Piers thinks he gives the impression of a lost dog spotting its owner. There’s something he can embarrassingly only describe as butterflies spreading through his stomach.

“What? You thought I’d run away?”

Chris smiles and the butterflies go crazy.

“Yeah.”

“It’s _my_ flat…” Piers mumbles, keeps standing in the doorway, unsure of where to go from here. Chris makes the decision for him.

“Come here” he says and sets his hands down palm-up on the mattress.

Piers complies because it’s so easy suddenly, with Chris looking at him like that and the bed seeming so comfy against the harsh sounds of the storm. Chris moves back against the headboard and Piers isn’t sure what he meant by _here_ , but he figures Chris’ lap is as good as it gets, so he straddles him and mumbles “Sorry” when Chris gets another shock. Chris’ smile only broadens and Piers puts his palms on Chris’ big chest, rubs soothingly in apology.

“Skin creme?” Chris asks and looks away from Piers’ face to study his arm. Piers still hates that, people’s eyes roaming over that thing that has no right to define him, but he forces himself to calm down, gets hot when he remembers Chris’ lips all over it as if it’s just another part of him. It is after all, he guesses.

“Yeah they gave me… it’s supposed to make sure the skin doesn’t lose elasticity while scarring… or something” he says quietly.

His voice sounds hoarse to him and he blushes when images of a few hours before flash through his head. He wonders if the neighbours heard them. He hates being a cliché.

Chris hums in understanding and runs his palms up Piers’ thighs to place them on his hips, easy like they belong there.

“Smells good.”

His skin is still warm from sleep and Piers feels the want curling along his spine once more. Chris’ cheek is slightly bluish and Piers runs his fingertips over it gently.

“Sorry I hit you…”

Chris shrugs his shoulders and Piers thinks his eyes might have lit up more with each of Piers’ affections. He wants, wants, _wants_.

“’s okay, I deserved it.”

It’s Piers time to hum approvingly and he lets his hand fall back down onto Chris’ pecs. Chris chuckles and reaches out to brush the back of his fingers down Piers’ right cheek, smearing the remnants of the creme that his skin hasn’t absorbed yet. Piers sighs at the touch and stops thinking.

“Shitty weather outside today” Chris murmurs and Piers sees his eyes sparkle with something else now.

“Yeah.”

Their foreheads touch and Piers isn’t sure which of them has moved towards the other. Maybe both.

“Guess we should just stay inside then, hm?”

Piers smirks and nudges Chris’ nose with his.

“Yeah.”

He’s still sore but suddenly he wants to go again so badly he feels his bones vibrating with need. It feels a lot like electricity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright what did I wanna say...  
> 1\. so this originally happened because I kept calling infected!Piers electric!Piers  
> 2\. but what I did realise recently is that I might have accidentally stolen the zapping idea? xD  
> there's this manga by naono boura whith the same kinda premise (here- read it it's so cute daw omg http://mangafox.me/manga/dakishimetakunai/v01/c001/5.html) and I totally didn't notice even though I knew the book until I was in the middle of writing ch2 >.> so sry, didn't mean to plagiarise  
> well shit happens  
> 3\. also it's ridiculous how every little being in RE comes back at least 3 times before it’s finally down but piers is like totally deemed /dead/? it's just a trope to get chris to angst some more and i will not accept it! xD  
> //insert joke here about hetero couples being fine but one of the guy couple must die//  
> 4\. lastly I noticed how I only uploaded stories on AO3 with top POV which is totally weird cuz I'm actually a bottom POV writer most of the time? :/ so weird how does my brain work
> 
> ok bye

**Author's Note:**

> AND I DON'T WANNA MISS A PIIIIIIEEEEERS!  
> notice me senpai


End file.
